The silk threads kept spreading overhead, but Cheng Shi could no longer see them clearly—only a faint, mystical pulse of Fate power too weak to guide him.
So the Blind One beca his human GPS, leading him through the town toward the mines beyond its edge.
Falling Gate's layout differed drastically from surface civilization. The living areas weren't densely packed—buildings scattered haphazardly, a cluster here, a cluster there. The town plan looked as if outsiders had stumbled across inhabitants, picked random spots along the outskirts to settle, and gradually grown into new districts.
This made the town's footprint enormous. The two walked for quite a while.
But Cheng Shi didn't idle. He observed everything, occasionally chatting up passing strangers, treating the investigation like a sightseeing stroll. When the mood struck, he even picked two orange ball-flowers from the roadside and stuck them in Ad Ric's nostrils—"beautifying the corpse to please his companion," he claid.
The corpse's beauty was debatable. The companion was decidedly not pleased.
Watching his antics, the Blind One sighed. 'He's far too relaxed. But the more relaxed, the further this Fate Weaver strays from his true nature.'
As the Fate Chosen—confident in her Void-granted ability to see through essences—everything Cheng Shi displayed was, to her, a deliberate distancing from the world.
He locked his core self away deep inside, projecting a carefree fa??ade as a universally recognized Fate Weaver. Wasn't that its own form of Void? A void of self-not-self.
"Have you always been like this?" she suddenly asked.
"?" Cheng Shi blinked, feigning confusion.
"Sotis you feel more like a Clown than a Fate Weaver."
"..." 'That "Clown" better be a profession na.'
Lip twitching, he pursed his mouth: "You can really tell fortunes?"
The Blind One nodded, then shook her head:
"A little. But not through calculation—through observation.
Fate doesn't need to be computed. It has always been right before everyone's eyes. It hangs labels on every possible path, then waits quietly as each life chooses its own road.
It has never interfered with anyone's choices. Yet people always bla their misfortune on its indifference.
What they fail to understand is that Fate doesn't perform destiny—each person performs their own destiny.
It writes countless scripts and creates innurable characters. But there are always those who frantically search through the pile, pull out the most miserable roles, and fit them onto themselves.
I can't see how those scripts end. But I can glimpse blurred images—knowing who is about to perform which drama..."
Hearing this theory of Fate, Cheng Shi realized the Blind One's ascent to Chosen wasn't a matter of luck after all.
She truly understood Fate. In certain respects, her comprehension nearly rivaled his own.
His interest spiked. Tilting his head to study his black-veiled companion, he asked with genuine curiosity:
"Can you see what kind of fate I'll perform?"
The Blind One said nothing. Instead, she opened her palm to reveal a six-sided die—its glaring red 1 burning into Cheng Shi's vision.
"Sorry—divination is a personal habit. When combat isn't needed, I regularly divine my own choices. Not to predict the future, but to calibrate the present.
I'm constantly checking whether I've drifted from Fate's guidance. The thod has always worked—it's carried
all the way to Chosen.
But...
Cheng Shi, you're a very strange person. When I divine matters related to you, the readings co out perfectly normal.
But the mont I try to investigate you as a person, my die rolls a 1 without exception."
The Blind One stopped walking. She turned to him, curiosity etched into her features:
"Today alone, my curiosity has earned
eight 1s.
I don't believe this is coincidence. Nor do I believe Fate has so error regarding you. When sothing repeats this consistently, I can only conclude: this is your fate.
So I'm very curious about what story you're living—what kind of performance would make my die produce an immovable 1.
Cheng Shi, I'll ask one more ti—can today's sincerity earn
an answer?"
"..."
'If I could give you an answer, would my na still be Cheng Shi?'
'I'd just change it to "Fate" and be done with it.'
Her question was posed with curiosity, but what Cheng Shi heard stirred sothing closer to helpless dread.
If even other Fate followers only saw a 1 when divining his destiny—then could this so-called predetermined ending ever be changed?
Had Cheng Dashi's regression and Prosperity's fall made any difference at all?
Would the world, the universe, the era... still march along the script toward total Void?
His mind churned. He stared at the glaring 1 in her palm, and couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't Fate's fixed destiny—but a certain clown's red nose...
After a pause, he didn't answer her question. Instead he asked one of his own.
"Secretly divining
isn't exactly sincere, Chosen An.
But I'm a magnanimous person—I won't hold it against you. However, before answering that question, you'll need to answer one of mine first."
The Blind One didn't refuse. She nodded: "Go ahead."
"Good. My question is: if I shared my story with you, would Zhen Xin... know?
And that jinx—Zhen Yi—would she know too?"
"That's what you're worried about?" The Blind One blinked, then laughed softly. "It's true—Xin Xin and I hide nothing from each other. But even the closest friends keep so secrets. As long as you an Xin Xin no harm, I don't see a problem.
As for Zhen Yi... even if Xin Xin knew, she can control Zhen Yi's mories. Otherwise, the sses she'd cause would be far worse than what we already have."
'Knew it!'
Zhen Xin could control Zhen Yi's mories!
That explained everything. Cheng Shi nodded privately, then asked with lingering curiosity: "If Zhen Xin also considers Zhen Yi a liability, why not take back all her mories?"
"That's a second question, Cheng Shi. You're cautious enough when sharing your own story, but plenty greedy when coveting others'. Your behavior is no different from those inmates back in the cell—or the Ad Ric on your shoulder."
"???"
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